


Everything

by Lady_sb



Series: Three Views on Marriage [1]
Category: Torchwood
Genre: Alternate Universe, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Multi, Romance, Sequel, Smut, Star-crossed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-28
Updated: 2019-12-16
Packaged: 2021-01-05 17:08:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,699
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21212087
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lady_sb/pseuds/Lady_sb
Summary: After five years apart, Jack Harkness and Ianto Jones have finally found their way back to each other. However, what happened to both of them during their time away, and will it be as easy to pick up the pieces of their relationship?A sequel (of sorts) toMe and Mr Jones





	1. ~Part I~

**Author's Note:**

> I need to thank all the wonderful people who read Me and Mr Jones and I was inspired to write this sequel. I thought it would be a great to explore their time apart, the people who they met, the experiences they went through before they found each other again. 
> 
> And once they found each other, how it was to fall back in love again. 
> 
> Just as importantly, this is forms part of my "Three Views on Marriage" series, where I explore how three couples, across three fandoms, deal with the ideas of love, relationships and marriage. From those who want it to be the be all and end all, to those who tried it and realised it wasn't for them, to those who feel that maybe it is not necessary a choice. You don't need to have read all three to enjoy the individual stories, but reading all three will give a more complete picture. 
> 
> Thank you and comments/kudos are so much love.

***

_You seek the past, _  
_and are starting to move away. _  
_I should have understood this, _  
_so why does it hurt? _

***

Ianto Jones woke up with a jerk.

His heart was pounding in his ears and he could feel a trickle of cold sweat make its way down his back. He could even taste the staccato beat on the back of his tongue as he forced himself to take a deep breath. 

Cursing softly, Ianto gingerly slipped out from under the sheets and tread silently to stand by the window. Pulling back the curtains, he breathed easier when he was greeted by Tokyo’s distinct silhouette, with Tokyo Skytree’s silver tip piercing the night sky, a world apart from the slightly dingy sprawl of Ikebukuro’s back alley beneath his feet. 

Relief because for a split second he almost expected to see London out the window. 

Ianto sighed and rubbed his face in frustration. He had dreamt about _him_ again. Usually the dreams weren’t all that bad, even if they did fill him with a kind of pensive sadness that lingered for longer than he would admit. 

No, he had that _other_ dream. The one filled with death and hate and the poisonous taste of regret on his lips. 

“Ianto?” 

He glanced over his shoulder at the sound of his name, and couldn’t help but smile when his gaze landed on the man in his bed, with skin was so pale that Ianto couldn’t see where the sheets ended and his lover began. 

“Did I wake you Sakito?” Ianto said, his tone apologetic as he sat down beside the Japanese man and threaded their hands together. 

“It’s fine...I am glad you did,” Sakito replied as he leaned in for a kiss and tenderly cradled Ianto’s jaw. 

It was a kiss that carried with it so much familiarity, which made Ianto feel as if he had been kissing him for years. 

Rather than three weeks, which was the actual length of time he had known him. 

He had met Sakito during one of his brief moments of loneliness, when his craving for more intimate company was almost crippling. Tosh had been right, Tokyo was a good place to disconnect from your life, lost as you were in the constant whirlpool of its populace, your insignificance in the universe amplified. 

However, it soon became clear that your ghosts didn’t care how many neon lit corners you walked down. 

But Ianto found himself still turning away any woman that came up to him, his guilt still too raw to not feel like he was betraying Lisa all over again. 

But he felt the same whenever a guy came up to him, because the truth was that not many Japanese men approached him. He recognised how with his looks and colouring he didn’t fall into a certain type, even for those who liked Western men. 

So inevitably he was approached by other foreigners and in those cases, it just hurt too much. Especially if they had blue eyes or an American accent.

It was one of those evenings where he found himself at a well-known pick-up spot in Roppongi, lost in his thoughts as he nursed a beer at the bar. The noise and music nothing more than a low-fi buzz in his ear, as his thoughts knitted themselves into a tangle. 

However, it was during a moment of clarity that Ianto happened to look up and locked gazes with a Japanese man opposite him.

Without warning, his pulse quickened. 

Slender, dressed in baggy clothes that made it near impossible to peg gender, but Ianto’s trained eye recognised that everything the other man had on was designer. Shoulder length ebony hair with shocking pink tips framing androgynous features, almond shaped dark brown eyes rimmed with kohl, and lips that seemed to blush red.

But looks aside, what struck Ianto the most was the calm he exudes, even as chaos and palpable sexual frustration colours the air around him. 

In the midst of it all, he looked like the eye of a storm, with ridiculously long fingers holding a lit cigarette while stroking the sides of his whisky glass. 

Suddenly he looked up and smiled at Ianto, and it was as if all the air had gotten sucked out of the room. 

Simply put, he was one of the most exquisite creatures Ianto had ever laid his eyes on. 

And a slight tilt of the head was all the invitation Ianto needed before deciding to approach him.

Swallowing the rest of his drink, Ianto got up and tried to inch closer to where the beautiful man was sitting, insistently bumping shoulders against other people who clearly had the same idea.

Part of Ianto knew this was insanity, he didn’t even know whether the man spoke English, and God knows Ianto’s Japanese was non-existent at best.

But something still drove him, compelled him, and that was how he found himself sitting in the seat next to the Japanese man. 

“Hi,” Ianto said tentatively, hesitantly, wondering if he was overstepping his boundaries. 

Christ, he was even more beautiful up close. 

“My name is Ianto,” he quickly added while extending his hand out, which the Japanese man accepted after a beat. 

“Sakito, nice to meet you,” he responded, in a voice that seemed too young for the look in his eyes, his Japanese accent clipping his words at the corners. 

An awkward silence hung between them after that exchange, and Ianto fought the urge to shuffle his feet. It was rare for him to feel so put out, but it was hard not to when the look Sakito gave him was so steady and full of expectation. 

Ianto drew a breath. 

“I don’t normally do this,” Ianto started, but when he saw Sakito’s quizzical look, he quickly added, “And I know that sounds like a line, but I swear it’s not.” 

Ianto knew he sounded so far from suave it was ridiculous. In fact, he could see Sakito biting his bottom lip as if trying to stop a smile. 

“It still sounds like a line though,” Sakito replied, but there was definite teasing edge to his words that made Ianto’s feeling of worry dissipate a little. But it ratched back up when Sakito’s expression changed so quickly it was as if a switch had been flipped. 

“Be honest then,” he said quietly, his dark eyes fathomless.

Ianto scrabbled for something to say after that. There was no doubt that Sakito was challenging him, and Ianto wondered if he should be clever, wondered if he should be glib. 

But as he turned his head, and watched Sakito sit motionless in his seat through the filter of gray smoke, Ianto knew there was no other answer. 

“You don’t belong here,” Ianto said softly. 

A pause, a breath. Ianto watched as a barely perceptible tremble in his fingers caused the ash from Sakito’s cigarette to crumble on the counter. 

“Neither do you,” Sakito responded, just as softly. “So shall we get out of here?” 

For the first time in years, Ianto took someone home. 

***

“Who is Jack?” Sakito suddenly asked into Ianto’s ear, his tone gentle but it was enough to break his reverie. 

Ianto jumped at the question, but Sakito’s hands remained firmly on his chest, holding him steady, even as his heart thumped against his ribcage. 

“How did you….” 

“You say his name, in your sleep, a lot,” Sakito replied. “Sometimes it’s with a smile, but other times, it’s with such sorrow, like you are in so much pain.”

Ianto closed his eyes as he put his hand on top of Sakito’s. For a moment, he wondered if he should lie, or brush it off. But, the truth was that part of him _wanted_ to tell someone. Whether it was for absolution or blame, Ianto wasn’t entirely sure. 

Yet, part of him held back. Instead, Ianto took the opportunity to turn over the Japanese man’s hands, nesting them in his palms. 

Ever since that first night, he had become borderline obsessed with Sakito’s hands. Strong, the veins a prominent blue-gray map across the surface, hard grooves marking each fingertip, all pinned together by bones as delicate as fine china. 

“You are like Ni~ya, he always said he liked my hands too.” 

Although his tone did not change, Sakito had said the name with so much yearning that it made Ianto’s breath catch at the back of his throat in solidarity. 

He had heard that name the second time they had slept together, which was when he found out what it was that Sakito did. 

When he had first asked him, Sakito had mumbled something about being in music and left it at that. Ianto didn’t press him, after all it was only supposed to be a one-night stand. 

But he wasn’t surprised when Sakito messaged him a couple of days later, asking if he was interested in meeting up. 

It had become clear to both of them by then that it wasn’t just the sex, although that had been amazing. Like his hands, Sakito in bed was a juxtaposition. All long pale limbs and pierced navel, his solid cock pressing against his stomach as Ianto fucked him, smelling like spring and tasting like cherry blossoms, green and sweet against his tongue. 

However, neither could deny the connection between them that they really couldn’t name, gossamer thin and taut as fishing wire. 

But when Sakito had asked to meet at the side entrance of Tower Records in Shibuya, the last thing Ianto expected was to meet him, at the foot of a poster of _him_. Decorating the side of the 8-storey building, made up in leather and lace, all smooth skin and belly ring. 

Sakito must have seen the look on his face because the first thing he said, before Ianto could even say hello, was, “I forgot this was up today. Please don’t think I love myself that much.” 

He then facepalmed. 

Ianto couldn’t help it, he laughed, which made Sakito smile in response. 

“So… you do music huh?” Ianto said teasingly. 

“Yeah, music,” Saktio replied while looking him straight in the eye. 

In that split-second Ianto realised that Sakito hadn’t been evasive, or coy, in his earlier answer. For the other man, it was clearly all he had ever known and loved. 

“_Matta ne_!”

Ianto saw Sakito’s head snap to the side when another Japanese man with blue-streaked dark hair exit the building and get into a waiting van. Ianto noticed Sakito’s expression become soft only to harden when a pretty girl with pastel orange hair followed him. 

It was at that moment he realised why Sakito had called him, the upset evident in his dark eyes and a jagged tear to the corner of his lip where he had bitten too hard. 

Before Ianto could say anything, Sakito jerked his head and said quietly, “Let’s go.” 

It was that night, after having the kind of sex that left bloody lines on both skin and emotions, that Sakito told him about Nightmare, a band he had started with his high school friend, where he was lead guitarist, and was one of biggest selling acts in Japan.

It was also that night that Sakito had told him about Ni~ya, the handsome man with the blue hair, whose birthday was six days before the guitarist’s, who liked his cigarettes, his booze and his girls. 

Who Sakito had been in love with for years. 

At first Ianto had wondered why Sakito was telling him this. It was surely too intimate a fact to share with a stranger who he barely knew, who he couldn’t know whether he could trust. 

But it wasn’t until they were sharing a cigarette in silence, and Ianto saw him wrap his arms around himself as if for protection that he got it. 

There was no one else in his orbit that he could tell this to. 

Ianto supposed it was only fair. 

A confession for a confession. 

A secret for a secret. 

“Falling in love with him caused pain for the people around us,” Ianto finally spoke, leaning back against Sakito’s thin frame. He felt the guitarist’s grip on him relax as he told him about Jack and the role it had in the death of his wife. 

But mostly he told him about Jack, his blue eyes, his carefree demeanour. His compassion, his spirit, how he made Ianto feel, helpless yet strong. He told Sakito everything, without feeling the need to colour correct, to temper his selfishness for falling in love when he shouldn’t have. 

Sakito was silent as Ianto spoke, and didn’t say anything even when the Welshman had finished. But Ianto was okay with that, instead he just let himself bask in Sakito’s calm, which ran a balm over his nerves. 

“Do you know why I said yes to you that first night Ianto?” Sakito finally spoke, his words a whisper of cool in the dark. 

Ianto closed his eyes and shook his head slightly. 

“Because it was clear to me that I wasn’t what you were looking for,” Sakito said, and Ianto felt all his suppressed emotions swirl at the base of his throat and he had to stop himself from swallowing hard. 

“I go home soon,” Ianto said instead, hoping Sakito couldn’t hear the salt edge in his voice. 

Sakito nodded.

“You will go through pain again,” the guitarist said, his tone gentle but matter-of-fact. “I wish you didn’t have to.” 

It was all Ianto could do to shrug and turn around, before finding some relief in dip of Sakito’s thin shoulders. 

“I will call you,” Ianto said, but his gallantry sounded forced to his ears. Sakito heard it, and it made him bite his lip before shaking his head. 

“It is okay Ianto, I have enjoyed our time together but this is where we should end,” Sakito said quietly, but firmly. 

Ianto jerked his head up and opened his mouth to protest. He wasn’t an asshole after all. But his objections died at his throat when he saw the look in Sakito’s eyes, and he realised that the guitarist had already pegged their unnamed connection for what it was. 

A distraction. 

“Promise me something Sakito,” Ianto spoke, his words a shade below desperation as he dropped to his knees and gripped their hands together. 

Sakito nodded for him to continue, looking up at him through his lashes, reminding Ianto of the paintings of faeries he had seen in the picturebooks of his childhood. 

“Tell Ni~ya you love him, tell him while you can. You love him so much, it needs to be said.” 

Sakito’s normally clear eyes clouded. 

“What if he says no,” Sakito said, his usual bulletproof confidence leaving him, his vulnerability slipping out from his beautiful facade. 

“Sakito, trust me, he is probably already crazy about you,” Ianto reassured, his words tender. “It’s hard to not be in love with you.” 

Sakito gave a humourless laugh.

“You aren’t,” he deflected with a sad smile.

“Because I am in love with someone else,” Ianto replied, and the minute the words left his mouth, his shoulders jerked as if electrocuted, and he had to press his hands together to stop them for shaking. 

Sakito saw his reaction and ached in sympathy. 

“Ianto…” Sakito said his name as a means to comfort him as the guitarist kissed him on the forehead. 

“_Koi wo suru beki_,” Sakito said in Japanese as he carded his hands through Ianto’s dark hair. 

“What does that mean?” 

“It means, you deserve to be in love,” Sakito said gently. “Don’t feel guilty for it.” 

A manic part of Ianto wanted to laugh at how untrue that statement was. 

“I don’t think my guilt will ever fucking leave me Sakito.”

Sakito shook his head. 

“I am not saying you should deny it or put it away, that solves nothing. But human beings are complex, incomplete puzzles at the best times. This is just another piece of yourself that you need to fit.”

“Make it a part of yourself, of what makes you… _you_. And that you, still deserves to be happy.” 

Sakito drew a breath. 

“Because what is love really, other than someone who wants to be with you in all your damaged glory?”

Ianto felt his heart flutter. There was so much beauty in the elegance of his answer. 

Instead of responding, he just looked up at the guitarist and kissed him deeply.

“I guess this is goodbye then?”

Sakito nodded. “It’s been good knowing you Ianto, I never regretted saying yes.” 

“Neither did I, but…”

Sakito raised a quizzical eyebrow at the pause. 

“I’m just a bit disappointed that I never had the chance to watch you perform,” Ianto said a tad ruefully.

“Oh,” Sakito responded, more than a little taken aback. But he soon regained his composure and nodded his head in a determined fashion, more to himself than to Ianto. 

“Tell you what,” Sakito got up so he could walk over to his bag, so he could rummage around for his card and a pen.

Ianto smiled as he watched Sakito pull off the pen cap with his teeth, and scribble something in flowing Japanese script on the back of the card before signing it with a flourish. 

“If you ever return to Tokyo, and I have a live, just hand this to the staff. They will let you in, no questions asked.”

Sakito tucked the card into Ianto’s palm and pulled him closer for another kiss. 

“No expiry date.” 

Before Ianto could react or kiss him back, Sakito pulled away and brushed the other man’s hair back. He then slid off the bed and made his way to the shower. 

For a moment, Ianto just stared at the closed door, listening to the sound of the water running. Taking a deep breath, he stood up and slowly started putting his clothes back on. 

When he finally got to shrugging his coat over his shoulders, Ianto just stared at the door a moment longer before heading out of the room, his footsteps heavy but sure. 

His head high, he walked down the stairs and out the front door, into Tokyo’s chilly embrace.


	2. ~Part II~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Firstly I have to apologise for how late this part is =_=;;; it was a mixture of things from me being away and work and having exams. But after all that, I want to thank all of you who read this and left kudos. 
> 
> The good news is once my exam is over this Sunday, part three will be up next week. 
> 
> This chapter is from Jack's point of view, and how he coped with the separation. And although I have mixed feelings on CoE, there was one line from it I thought was very apt. 
> 
> Once again thanks for reading, and comments/kudos are love <3

***

_The road that I used to walk with you is gone. _  
_But still, I will keep walking, _  
_I wonder if I’ll ever be able to meet you. _

***  
Captain Jack Harkness was no stranger to lust. 

Hell, it might as well be his middle name. 

That was why he was good at recognising it in all its forms, whether it was sexual, yearning, fleeting or something more permanent. 

Hence why he could identify that the urge he had to leave the UK was not just mere wanderlust. Jack was a big believer in resonance and balance in his universe, and it didn’t take much pondering for him to come to the decision to leave London. 

Ianto. Gwen. Lisa. 

Jack knew he had a lot of dirt to shake off his shoes. 

That was why the day of Lisa’s funeral, after he had comforted Ianto, after he returned her wedding ring to her, he had gotten back into his car and drove straight for the airport, his packed duffle bag in the trunk. 

Jack had come to the realisation that he had to leave the day after Ianto had visited him in the middle of the night. It wasn’t a feeling he could really pinpoint, the closest way he could describe it was that everything just felt two sizes too small. 

So he had gotten a job in Dubai, purposely choosing to surround himself with as different a city as he could. Where the days were more gold and shimmering, than gray and sleeting. 

After a few months of soaking in opulence, sand and heat, it got easier to forget. And gradually Jack found his smiles becoming more genuine, as he spent too much of his free time poolside at the Jumeirah Etihad where he was being put up. 

Flirting, seducing, charming, fucking whoever struck his fancy at the bar.

Soon London, his former life, all faded into the shadows like dust motes. 

Then he met Rafael Barba. 

When Jack had first taken the private pilot job, he had been expecting a little hanky panky from his boss. A stupidly rich Emirati businessman with a reputation for sleeping with anything that was gorgeous enough. 

Kind of like Jack himself if he was being brutally honest. 

Jack wasn’t delusional, he knew that the only reason he had gotten hired was because he looked damn good in the cockpit. His co-pilot looked like a viking; tall, blonde, with eyes as icy blue as an Icelandic fjord. 

Straight though, which made Jack sigh sometimes. 

However, it turned out that his boss went through demarcated moods, and these days it was more women who held his fancy. 

Hence why it came as a complete surprise to Jack when he started sleeping with his boss’ lawyer instead. 

Jack didn’t have to take a deep dive to recognise the lust he felt the first time he laid eyes on Rafael Barba. 

It had been on one of the businessman’s regular trips to New York when Jack was given a passenger manifesto with a new name on it. But the last person he expected to show up was an older handsome Cuban-American, with the most beguiling pair of hazel green eyes he had ever seen. 

In fact, Jack distinctly remembered what his first thought was when he met Barba. 

Phwoar. 

Through some eavesdropping, Jack could gather that Barba was the newest member of his boss’ legal team. Given his wealth and position, it was no surprise that the Emirati had a literal army looking after his interests.

Yet, although his first interaction with Barba had been cursory - a simple “hello, I’m flying you all today” accompanied by a smile - Jack was immediately struck by the feeling that Barba didn’t fit in with the rest of his boss’ sycophants. 

On the outside, he definitely looked the part. Sharply-dressed and extremely well put together, moving with the grace and determination of shark. But unlike the others, Barba carried himself with a kind of quiet dignity, which made him even more attractive. 

But it wasn’t that which made Jack want to talk to him. It was mid-flight, and Jack had been heading to the bathroom when he spotted Barba sitting and listening to Emirati, who was no doubt telling him some outrageous story. For all the things his boss was, he was never boring. 

For the most part Barba’s reactions were on point. He smiled with an almost inert confidence, his brow furrowed when the topic turned to something more serious, and occasionally he would lean forward to scribble on a piece of paper when asked to present a solution. 

But it just so happened that Jack caught a moment where he saw Barba’s careful mask slip, just for a split-second, and he saw the melancholy he had tried so hard to hide, the tiredness etched into the corners of his mouth. 

So Jack hung back by the bar, nursing his glass of soda until Barba got up for a refill. The lawyer however, did not seem to even realise that Jack was there as the bartender poured more whisky into Barba’s glass, making the ice crack and spit. 

However, Jack was not one to be ignored. 

“Rafael Barba… isn’t it? I am Captain Jack Harkness, welcome to the team,” Jack said with his hand extended, his usual charming megawatt smile firmly in place. 

Barba started at the sudden gesture before looking up at Jack. There was an uncertainty in his eyes that the American was used to, people always didn’t seem to know how to react to him. 

But suddenly Barba’s expression hardened, and Jack felt it as if he had been physically punched. 

“Shouldn’t you be flying the plane?” Barba all but sneered before walking away. 

Jack’s eyes narrowed and his jaw clenched at being put so firmly on the back foot. 

Arrogant prick. 

He wanted to fuck him there and then. 

But once his bruised pride had healed somewhat, it was then Jack recognised that what he had seen was the lawyer’s defense mechanism at work. 

So he knew that getting to Barba was going to require a chase, which he did, for three months. Three months of getting to know him, making small talk, going out of his way to look out for him, to show him that Jack was not, in fact, trying to get him to be a notch on his bedpost. 

Truth was, it was longer than Jack thought he would ever try, after all he wasn’t hard up for sex. 

Yet, it seemed the everything about Rafael intrigued him, from his Cuban heritage to those eyes that had first caught his attention, which shifted colours depending on his mood and the tie he was wearing. 

And then one night, after too much Yamazaki, Rafael kissed him and Jack fell like a tonne of bricks. 

It was then that Jack discovered what that massive chip on Barba’s shoulder was hiding.

A man who was genuinely funny, even if that sense of humour came laced with barbs. An almost solid sense of self, underpinned by a razor sharp intelligence he held close to the chest like a shield, clothed in exquisitely tailored suits, paired with coloured shirts, patterned suspenders and statement ties. 

It was then that Jack realised the real reason he was drawn to Barba, why he had persisted. 

And it made a part of him he thought he had locked away, hurt. 

“You have that look on your face again _querido_,” Rafael said, drawing a finger up and down Jack’s shoulder. 

The captain smiled a little at the endearment. Darling. 

“What look?” Jack answered with a cavalier smile, pressing his hand flat against Rafael’s broad chest, the damp hair prickling his palms. 

Summers in Dubai were suffocatingly hot, which meant that their boss would disappear to Switzerland for months at a time. Hence why Jack decided the best way to beat the heat was to slowly fuck for hours with the air-conditioning on full blast. 

The captain ran his hand appreciatively down his lover’s chest to his spent cock, still sticky from the condom. Rafael was a couple years younger than Jack, but sometimes the American craved that touch of authority he held, Barba’s deep voice whispering endearments in Spanish as he jerked the older man off. 

Jack jumped when Rafael suddenly stopped his hand with a grip to his wrist that seemed a little too hard. Looking up in surprise, Jack felt a spark of worry travel through him at the shift in Rafael’s expression, something he had never seen before. 

Rafael drew a breath. 

“The one where I am not the one you want to be looking at,” Rafael said quietly. 

Jack pulled his hand back as if he had been burned. But he schooled his face to be expressionless as he stared at Rafael. However, to his credit, Rafael didn’t back down. 

“Who was he?” Rafale asked, his tone a touch more gentle this time. 

“I don’t know what you are talking about,” Jack said flatly as he pulled the sheets off and swung his legs over the side of the bed, facing away from the lawyer. He could feel the burn of his memories in the pit of his stomach, as he clenched his fist on the edge of the mattress. 

Rafael saw all of this, and instinctively put his hands on Jack’s shoulders, his thumbs pressing muscles so tense that it felt like it could snap at any minute. 

“Jack…” 

“Don’t Rafael,” Jack interrupted sharply. “I fucking hate being psychoanalysed and I don’t need to be saved. So just stop.” 

The captain could feel Rafael’s hands twitch before pulling them off his shoulders. 

“I am not here to fix you Jack, you fucking arrogant dick.” 

Jack turned around to snap back, only to stop when he saw the look on Rafael’s face. 

“I said that because I recognise the look in your eyes,” Rafael said, his anger slowly dissipating as he kept talking. “It’s as if your gaze can’t really focus, like you are always looking beyond people to hopefully see what it is you want to see behind.” 

The captain’s heart skipped a beat at having his deepest thoughts made solid. 

It then dawned on Jack what else had drawn him to Rafael. 

Camaraderie.

For a minute, they both just let the words hang in the air between them, in between the sunbeams streaming through the window. 

“Who was he?” Jack finally asked softly, parroting the lawyer’s words back to him. 

Rafael looked off to the side. 

“A New York detective… well a boy really, with blue eyes that reminded me of the Pacific and an atrocious Staten Island accent,” Rafel laughed, but there was no malice in the sound. 

Jack couldn’t help but chuckle along. 

“Mine was also a boy, with eyes the colour of the English sky, but his accent was Welsh, and man was it charming,” Jack said, trying and failing to keep the wistfulness out of his voice. 

“Name?”

Jack ran a hand through his hair. 

“Ianto… His name was Ianto… Jones. And I loved him,” Jack confessed. The earlier pain he felt from remembering had receded, only to be replaced by a warm softness in his chest. 

“Loved? Or still love?” Rafael pressed. 

In for a penny, in for a pound. 

“I will always love him Rafael, until the end of my days,” Jack met Rafael’s gaze, his eyes bright. 

“In my universe, I always see him as a fixed point. I remember how everything changed before and after he came into my life.”

A sadness came over Jack when he realised that this was the first time he had actually really vocalised his feelings for Ianto out loud. 

And he was saying it to someone else. 

“Yours?” 

“Sonny,” Rafael said, frowning when Jack couldn’t hold back a deep laugh from bubbling up. 

“Sounds like a boy alright,” Jack continued, but he accompanied his words with a kiss to the turn of Rafael’s shoulder to blunt the insult. It worked as Rafael shot him a conspiratorial smile. 

“Stupid right? His name is actually Dominick… Dominick Carisi Jr. to be exact, but he hated being being called that. Said it reminded him too much of his dad,” Rafael explained, but saying his former lover’s name after so long made his green eyes darken. 

Jack didn’t miss that. 

“Did you love him?”

Instead of answering Rafael just looked down. For a moment it was so silent in the room, all Jack could hear was the whirr of the air conditioning. 

“In a moment of madness, I thought I wanted to marry him,” Rafael confessed, so quietly it sounded more like a thought. 

It didn’t really surprise Jack though, Rafael seemed like the kind of guy to want certainty, to test his partners so he could judge their devotion, love be damned. 

Another similarity to Ianto. 

Another sharp stab behind the ribs. 

It never ceased to amaze the captain how Ianto had let him blow through his life the way he did. 

“Did you ever want to marry Ianto, Jack?” 

The American shook his head.

“Nope, not in the slightest,” he said cheerfully, which made Rafael stare at him in surprise. 

Jack shrugged. 

“I am not the marrying kind Rafael, and while Ianto was, I don’t think he is now. It would seem hypocritical.” 

It was then Jack told Rafael about how he had met Ianto, how their relationship started as an extramarital affair. The lawyer listened quietly as Jack told him about how they met, how they became friends and how they fell in love. 

And then, after the briefest of pauses, about Lisa and how he died. 

“Oh,” Rafael said after Jack finished telling his story. Inching closer, he took the American’s face in his hands and kissed him. Jack kissed him back with a soft huff of breath, and followed the gentle insistence of his hands until he was lying down on Rafael’s lap. 

Jack closed his eyes as Rafael hummed something familiar at the base of his throat in his rich tenor, while at the same time soothingly combed his short nails through the captain’s brown hair. 

“No judgement?” Jack finally said drily. 

Rafael rubbed his knuckles against nape of Jack’s neck. 

“I don’t have the right,” Rafael replied, and Jack could practically feel the weight of each word press against nerves.

“Wanna talk about it?” Jack said, turning his head slightly to kiss the closest available patch of skin. But the way Rafael suddenly stiffened told Jack that his walls were back up.

“Today is your storytime Jack, not mine,” Rafael said, leaning over to brush his lips against his lover’s temple. “I am going to take a shower.” 

Jack nodded as Rafael unfolded his legs, setting him back down gently on the bed. He knew when not to push, and that Rafael would eventually tell him more about the Staten Island cop with ocean blue eyes. 

In the meantime, Jack just closed his eyes, tangled in both his sheets and his memories. 

***

“_Shukran_,” Jack said as the shopkeeper handed him a small bag of heart-shaped flowers. 

“Cooking tonight Captain Harkness?” the owner asked with a smile, which Jack reciprocated. 

“Something like that,” Jack responded cheerfully as he stuffed the butterfly pea flowers into his backpack before turning on his heel. He walked with a pronounced bounce in his step through the souk, each breath filling his lungs with the smell of saffron and turmeric. 

But Jack didn’t have time to wander today, he was making dinner and Rafael was coming over. 

Sometimes it was hard for Jack to fathom that not only had it been four months since they had met, but that Rafael was still around. Although it was true that the Emirati was more than happy with the lawyer’s work, - Rafael attacked any task given to him with an almost blistering zeal -, it was clear to Jack that what their boss had him doing was beneath him. 

Still, Jack wouldn’t complain, Rafael had become very important to him. 

Although they weren’t exclusive, what they had was damn near close. But both of them also knew that what they had between them wasn’t love or companionship, rather some formless hybrid of the two. 

However, at times it was enough. They were simply not capable of offering up anything more. 

A sudden vibration in Jack’s pocket interrupted his train of thought, and he cursed under his breath as he struggled to juggle his shopping in order to answer his phone. 

But his annoyance quickly turned to joy when he saw who it was trying to FaceTime him. 

“Dr Owen Harper!” Jack grinned as his best friend’s face filled his screen. 

“Harkness! Jesus you are harder to get hold of than the Queen!” Owen reprimanded. “Do you ever answer your messages? Or is it your default mode these days is to just ignore me?” 

Jack felt a deep scratch of guilt at Owen’s accusation. 

“Of course not Owen, it’s just… been a bit busy you know? And I can’t answer messages in the cockpit you know that,” Jack said, quickly sidestepping his friend’s direct line of questioning. 

“Well, that is why I decided to call you. Harder for you to ignore me this way.” 

Jack was about to apologise again when the look on Owen’s face stopped him. The doctor had always been quirkily attractive, but the almost serene expression he had made him look extremely handsome. 

Owen drew a breath. 

“I am getting married Jack. Tosh said yes,” he said simply. 

Jack stopped in his tracks as he face broke into a huge grin. 

“Oh man, congrats Owen. I am so happy for you buddy!” Jack said. Owen smiled fondly at his friend, glad for the reaction he got. 

“I know you are Jack and thanks,” Owen replied. “Well, you were right about her after all,” he added a little gruffly, which was the way he was prone to act when emotions got a little bit too real. 

Jack cocked his head in very self-satisfied manner. 

“Told ya.” 

Actually, Jack had never met Toshiko before, had only heard second-hand stories from the doctor, and not all had been flattering. Owen could be downright nasty when provoked, and Jack had to on more than one occasion give him a severe dressing down when his tongue got too sharp. 

But there had been one reason above all else why Jack had kept at it. Because from the first time Owen had told him about Toshiko, he lost that tincture of perpetual hurt he had always been carrying since his fiancee had died. 

And it only happened with her. 

That is when Jack knew who his friend was meant to be with, and he would not let him miss this chance. 

“So when is the wedding?” Jack asked, as he continued to walk briskly to his apartment.

“We are still working that out. But no matter what, you are gonna be my best man okay?” Owen said. 

“Of course,” Jack said his heart warmed at the affection he could hear, even through the long-distance. “And I promise, I won’t steal your thunder.”

Owen rolled his eyes. 

“Whatever Jack, talk to you later.” 

Jack hung up as he got into the lobby of his apartment, his day considerably brightened. But soon his mind turned to what he was going to cook and he was mentally running through the recipe in his head. 

“Captain Jack Harkness?” 

“Yes?” Jack answered as he turned to see who had called his name. But his expression shifted the minute he saw two men in uniform walking towards him. 

“Dubai Police Force, we have a few questions.” 

***

“You know you can’t keep me here,” Jack said loudly to his reflection, knowing that he was being watched from behind the two-way mirror. 

When he got no response, Jack collapsed into the chair with a frustrated sigh, resisting the urge he had to kick the table.

Although he hadn’t gotten in trouble with the law before, he had heard enough horror stories to know that they could make his life very difficult if they chose. 

And that is why, despite the fact that they hadn’t formally arrested him, Jack had dropped a quick message to Rafael explaining the situation before they put him in interrogation. But given that he was in another part of the UAE, Jack knew it could be more than a couple of hours before he would see it. 

Jack looked up as the door opened with a whoosh and in strode a handsome man in his mid-30s, dressed neatly in a tailored grey suit, with stubble so artistic it might as well have been airbrushed on. 

“Sorry to keep you waiting Captain Harkness,” he said smoothly as he put a folder down on the table. “My name is Ibrahim, and I was hoping you and me can have a chat.” 

Jack leaned back into his chair as he took in the other man’s demeanour. Even from a glance he could tell he was ambitious, as most Emirati detectives his age were. No doubt trying to impress his older colleagues who were watching on the other side of the wall. 

“Can we just cut to the chase and tell me what you have me here for?” Jack said, his voice even but just tight enough to show he wasn’t rolling over. 

Ibrahim’s eyes narrowed. 

“Fine, you have been accused of sleeping with this man’s wife,” Ibrahim said as he pushed over a photo towards Jack. Jack glanced down at the photo before looking back up. 

“Never met her, are we done?” 

The twist in Ibrahim’s mouth got uglier despite the designer stubble. 

“Surely we can’t just take your word for it…” 

Both men jumped as the door burst open and Rafael strode in, still dressed in a suit and tie, having obviously come straight there from his previous appointment. 

“Surely you are not questioning my client without even offering him a chance to call his attorney officer?” Rafael practically seethed as he sat down next to Jack. The minute he did, the American let out a breath he hadn’t even realised he had been holding. 

Ibrahim leaned back in a show of mock contrition. 

“He hasn’t been arrested, we just wanted to ask him a few questions, and so far he has been cooperating. But surely Mr…” 

“Barba. Rafael Barba. And don’t give me the whole thing about ‘a few questions’. The Dubai Police Force does not work like that. And while adultery is a crime, it usually doesn’t involve holding my client for hours,” Rafael snapped. 

“Who is the accuser?” 

“Her husband says that Captain Harkness here met her at the market one day, and then romanced her,” Ibrahim replied pushing over another photo. 

The minute he laid eyes on it, Jack knew why he had been called in. He had seen that young man at the bar around his pool frequently enough to recognise his face, and by the clumsy way he tried to pick up other men. 

He had even tried it on Jack, only for the American to turn him down once he saw the tell-tale stripe of white on his finger. But that hadn’t really stopped the man from trying again. 

Without saying a word, Jack met Rafael’s gaze as he tried to convey all this through a knowing look. Admitting he knew the man would all be but tightening his own noose, so he hoped that Rafael would understand. 

And to his credit, Rafael saw it all. The dark shadow in Jack’s eyes, the twitch in his fingers against the table. He gave the briefest of nods before turning back to Ibrahim.

“If that is all, we are leaving officer, you know where to find us. But before you do, I suggest instead of taking his word at face value, why don’t you ask his wife where he spends his evenings,” Rafael said briskly but the meaning behind it was implicit.

Ibrahim’s face was blank, but even Jack could see that he knew that he had been caught out. 

Without hesitation, Rafael signaled Jack to get to his feet and both of them walked out the door. 

***

“That was…” Jack sighed as he poured them both a drink, throwing his down before giving Rafael his glass.

They were back at his apartment, and the minute he had stepped over the threshold, Jack took Rafael in his arms and kissed him hard in a mixture of gratitude and release. 

“Don’t worry about it Jack, one phone call to the boss and we should have it sorted. That guy was just looking for a win, it must have been obvious to you too,” Rafael said as he accepted the drink. 

Jack nodded. “I am glad you understood what I was trying to tell you.” 

Rafael smirked and shrugged. 

“A good lawyer knows how to read cues Jack. I took down murderers and rapists for a living, I know a few things about tells,” he said loosening his tie as he sat down on the couch. 

For a minute Jack just stared at Rafael, his quiet, satisfied smile as he swirled his drink around his glass, his eyes all fire and gold. 

In that split-second Jack knew at the back of his mind that what he was going to say was going to change everything. Whether for better or worse, he wasn’t sure, the uncertainty yawning before him like a chasm. 

The only thing he did know though, was that after years of concealing his feelings, he refused to let someone he cared so much about do the same. 

“You are good at this,” Jack said softly. Rafael snorted as he took a sip. 

“It was nothing…” 

“No Rafael, you are so good at this,” Jack said, more seriously this time as he sat down next to the lawyer. He took Rafael’s hand into his and lovingly ran a thumb over his knuckles. 

“You are wasted here Rafael.” 

Rafael jerked his hand back.

“Don’t Jack… don’t start something you can’t finish,” Rafael warned as he inched back from the American. But Jack wasn’t about to let him bolt. 

“Rafael, it is clear that you shouldn’t be here even a minute longer. You should be doing law again, fighting for people again, instead of hiding from whatever it is you are hiding from. Surely, it can’t just be that cop…” 

“It’s not Jack!” Rafael exploded as he stood up. Jack tried to reach for him only to have the other man back into a table. 

“I let a kid die okay? I went to trial for letting a kid die because he was suffering. I was a prosecutor for 21 years and one day I just forgot all that. It doesn’t matter if I was acquitted… I lost sight of why I became a lawyer in the first place,” Rafael said, the rawness of his confession hitting Jack right in the breastbone. 

Although he wouldn’t say he wasn’t shocked at what it was that made Rafael leave New York, Jack wasn’t the least surprised that it would be something like that. 

“So you made a mistake,” Jack said quietly, undeterred. “You are still too good a person to just hide away…”

Rafael’s head snapped up. 

“That is rich coming from you,” Rafael snarled. “You came here to hide, to forget, to rot in your own self-pity. For something that wasn’t even really your fault!” 

Jack inhaled sharply at the shards Rafael was throwing at him. 

“This is not about Ianto…” 

Rafael gave a hard laugh. 

“Of course it is Jack. Everything you do is about him, the pain you caused him, how badly you both hurt each other. Even the way you fuck, it’s all about trying to forget him.” 

Jack’s jaw tightened and was about fire back when Rafael beat him to it. 

“You are so full of it. You ask me to forgive myself when you can’t bring yourself to do the same. You can’t forgive his guilt, you think it’s tangled with the love you both had, but that is just an excuse,” Rafeal finished, breathing hard.

The words were angry, but all Jack could feel was the sad truth behind it grabbing him by the throat. 

“Leave,” Jack said hoarsely. 

Rafael squared his shoulders. 

“With pleasure,” he responded grimly. Barba grabbed his bag and walked out the door without looking back, closing it with a slam. 

For the rest of his life, Jack knew he would never forget that sound. And how much it sounded like an accusation. 

***

The next time Jack felt wanderlust itch the soles of his feet, six months had passed. But the feeling really wasn’t that surprising to him, in fact he was kind of taken aback that it had taken that long. 

It seemed that in his quest to leave London behind, he had forgotten that apathy was inversely just as powerful as lust. It was like quicksand that sucked you in, making you still, making you fear that any wrong move would result in you getting dragged down. 

Still, it had been a long six months of him just doing his job, making small talk with his colleagues. 

Of not talking to Rafael. 

But Jack knew that at the core of it, he couldn’t stay in Dubai anymore. The heat that one point he had revelled in, had now become stifling. 

That was how he had found himself in a similar position to three years before. 

Heading to the airport, with his bag in the back. 

This time though, Jack had been pleasantly surprised at how disappointed the Emirati had been when learned of the American’s resignation. He had even taken time out of his day to talk to him, to reassure him that he could always come back, which brought Jack a small measure of comfort. 

Still, Jack wondered if it was just because his employer was commiserating over having lost the opportunity to sleep with him. 

So yeah that was different. 

But just like the last time though, Jack knew before he left, he had one last stop to make. 

***

Jack felt his heart thump heavily against ribcage as he stood before Rafael’s door. Even as he knocked pressed the buzzer, Jack wondered if he was making a mistake. After so many months, and after having so many nights to think about it, he still didn’t know what to say, whether there was anything. 

But the minute Rafael opened the door, dressed in jeans and a simple white button down, Jack realised it didn’t really matter. 

Instead, he took a step forward so that he could gather Rafael in his arms and kiss him, his heart lifting when the other man kissed him back. 

“I am sorry,” Jack breathed as he rested their foreheads together. 

“I am too Jack,” Rafael responded, and Jack felt relief flood his veins. There was so much he wanted to say, but Jack knew that it was also unnecessary. 

Somehow, as he always did, Rafael just _knew_. 

“You are leaving huh?” Rafael said, running a thumb over the high part of the other man’s cheekbone. 

“Yeah,” Jack replied, pulling away ever so slightly. “It’s time for me to go.” 

Rafael nodded at the words Jack left unspoken. 

_It’s time for me to stop hiding_. 

“Jack, listen to me…” 

Jack looked up. 

“Those words you want to say, if you can, don’t wait to say them.”

“What words?” Jack said, a part of him still fronting, almost out of habit. 

Rafael gave him a look, but his eyes were soft. 

“Stay. Be with me. Say them when you can. Say them to the person who is meant to hear it,” Rafael said. 

Jack drew a deep breath. 

“Then promise me one thing,” Jack replied with quiet determination. “Don’t stay. Don’t stay any longer than you have to okay?” 

Rafael only gave the briefest of nods, but that was enough for Jack as he kissed him on the forehead. 

As the captain turned on heel to leave, he heard Rafael ask, “Where will you go Jack Harkness?” 

Jack responded with a grin that threatened to split his face. 

“Back to London, my best friend is getting married. Gotta be there as the best man,” he answered cheekily, which made Barba smile. 

And with that, Jack finally did leave, but he couldn’t stop wondering in the days that followed whether he would ever see Rafael again. 

He got his answer though a month later in the form of an email, which contained only three lines. 

A phone number with a US prefix. 

An address in New York. 

And the line, “My door is always open.”


	3. ~Part III~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to all of those wonderful people who read this and left kudos. You all are awesome and I hope you enjoy the last part. 
> 
> And please forgive me using some lyrics from one of my favourite songs that I am currently listening to.

***

_If you wanted to leave me and roam,_  
_when you get back... I'd just say_  
_welcome home, _  
_‘cause honey, nothin'_  
_nothin', nothin' can ever change this _  
_love I have for you._

***

Ianto Jones woke up with a jerk. 

“Sorry Ianto! I swear I didn’t see that pothole!” 

Still groggy, Ianto glanced over at Jack who was gripping the steering wheel with a sheepish look on his face. The younger man wasn’t angry at all, but even then he made a show of disapprovingly roll his eyes. 

And Jack immediately saw through that, which made his lips twitch. While he was genuinely sorry that he had woken Ianto up, he wasn’t sorry for making him look so cute. 

“You were dreaming, what about?” Jack asked, turning his attention back to the road.

Ianto hesitated a split second before answering, “Nothing.” 

“Ianto…” 

Jack’s tone was teasing but soft on the last syllable of his name. Hearing his name from the American’s lips after so long was so achingly familiar that it made Ianto relent. 

“I dream about you Jack,” Ianto confessed. 

“Oh?” Jack preened, quirking a flirtatious eyebrow. Ianto rolled his eyes again. 

“Not like that Jack,” Ianto scolded. “Well, not all like that…” 

Ianto trailed off as he stifled a yawn and looked out the window. 

“Where are we?” 

“About an hour outside Cardiff. We should arrive just in time to have breakfast outside the castle,” Jack said after glancing at the clock on the dashboard. 

“The sun is just coming up.” 

Ianto rested his chin on the heel of his hand as he watched the sky shift colour with every blink. From watery indigo to orange velour, the wind running its fingers through the fields, carrying with it morning frost, dust and pollen that Ianto swore he could almost smell, despite the windows being closed. 

“Looks like it will be a clear day at least,” Ianto said, putting his hand casually, almost too casually, on Jack’s thigh. The lightness of Ianto touch did not stop a jitter of a spark from running through the older man. 

It had not gone unnoticed by the captain that since they had reconnected back in the Soho coffee shop, Ianto’s new favourite thing was to touch Jack, which he did, almost constantly. 

Sometimes it was more subtle, like a brush of the fingers, or more pointed, like press of palm against his chest, followed by a swift kiss that always left Jack wanting more. 

It was as if he wanted to reassure himself that Jack was actually there. 

Jack didn’t mind of course. Hence the, wanting more, part. 

Ianto suddenly turned to him and frowned. 

“You’ve been driving for hours. Why didn’t you wake me to ask me to take over?” Ianto asked, warming his hands on the heater. 

Jack shrugged. 

“You looked tired, thought I would let you sleep,” Jack placed his hand on top of Ianto’s so that their fingers were intertwined. “Plus, you know I don’t really sleep.” 

Jack didn’t add that he wasn’t surprised that Ianto was worn out given the whirlwind that was the past 24-hours. After quickly finishing the mediocre coffee at the cafe, they made their way back to Ianto’s hotel, where Jack helped him pack, before making a pit stop at the captain’s temporary digs to settle his things. 

In between there had been long bouts of talking, interspersed with equally long periods where they just kissed, taking each other in with touches that spoke of chaste ardour.

Both had barely noticed when night became day, until it dawned on Ianto late on Sunday night that he had to work on Tuesday. 

Hurricane Jack, once more upending his life. 

Which was why they had set off at three in the morning. Ianto had fallen asleep almost immediately, but Jack’s many years of flying at weird times had made him a pro at concentrating on one task for hours at a stretch. 

Besides, it gave Jack time to ponder and think. And to steal long glances at Ianto, which unconsciously eased out his breathing and eased the tension from his shoulders. 

A shadow of worry passed over Ianto’s face. 

“You still find it hard to sleep?” Ianto said quietly. Without warning, the younger man’s concern scraped at Jack’s defense mechanism. 

“I’m gorgeous, why would I need any more beauty sleep?” Jack grinned, but the way he pulled his hand away spoke volumes to Ianto. 

Ianto bit back a sigh. 

As much as he loved that the Jack he knew hadn’t really changed, Ianto wished that this part of him, the part that instinctively built walls and kept people out, had. But he also knew that this wasn’t the time to bring it up. 

“What do you want to do after breakfast?” Jack asked. Mentally shaking away his concerns, Ianto smiled and reached again for Jack’s hand. 

“I get to show you my place,” Ianto replied with genuine eagerness. 

Jack exhaled and gave the younger man’s fingers a squeeze. 

“Lead the way,” he said, turning on the radio on the pretext of the hearing the morning news, instead of trying to fill the silence that had suddenly loomed between them. 

***

“You know, this is exactly how I pictured your apartment would be like.” 

Ianto looked up from drying his hair and felt his insides warm at the sight before him. Jack Harkness with his feet up on Ianto’s coffee table, his dark brown hair still damp from his own shower, blue button down open to reveal his white undershirt and hastily done up slacks.

“Is that a compliment?” Ianto asked, tossing the towel in the hamper before sitting down next to the captain. 

Jack shot him a look. 

“Of course it is,” Jack replied as he ran his hand over the younger man’s jean-covered knee, not adding that the only reason he felt able to make himself comfortable was because the apartment was just so _Ianto_. 

Plush, practical furniture that Ianto had chosen to cover in an unusual shade of emerald green, which matched the dark stain of the tables. The kitchen was near spotless, with most of the real estate dominated by a gleaming Gaggia coffee machine. 

The only messy counterpoint were the numerous books around the apartment, some dog-eared and tucked away below side tables, some still shiny and shrink-wrapped, peeking out of shopping bags. 

It also amused Jack no end to find a translated copy of Marie Kondo’s first bestseller strewn about. 

“I suppose this is the first time you’ve ever been in my home isn’t it Jack?” Ianto mused, tucking his feet beneath him.

“Yeah, because we always went to…” Jack started before abruptly trailing off, as it dawned on him why it always had to be his place. 

The sudden abrupt pause snagged Ianto’s emotions by the corners, and the younger man suddenly felt a push from inside him to move away. 

Stifling it, he instead concentrated on pulling the sleeves of his cable-knit sweater as far down as it would go as he watched the steam shimmer above the cup on the table.

“You made your own coffee? I could have done that for you.”

Jack shook his head as he took a sip. 

“It’s okay, already had a bit too much this morning. So I rummaged around your kitchen and made some mint tea, I hope you don’t mind.” 

Ianto’s head snapped up as he looked at Jack as if he were a complete stranger. 

“You… made mint tea?” He said, unable to keep the disbelief out of his voice. Jack automatically bristled at Ianto’s faintly accusatory tone, which immediately put him on the defense. 

“Yeah, I picked up the habit in Dubai. They made it with fresh mint and it was sickeningly sweet, but I gained a taste for it… Ianto?” 

Jack felt the irritation turn into a knot of worry in his stomach when the younger man suddenly stood up and faced away from the captain. 

“Hey, don’t get me wrong, I still love your…” 

“What are we doing Jack?” Ianto asked quietly. 

Jack swore that he could feel the temperature in the room drop. 

“Ianto, come on… don’t do this…” 

“Seriously, what are we doing? What made us think that we could just pick up where we left off?” Ianto replied, hugging himself to keep his emotions on an even keel. 

“Because…” Jack started as he reached out only to have Ianto shrink away, which hurt more than he thought it would. 

“Because, I believe in what I said back in the cafe Ianto. You will never be just a blip in time for me,” Jack said softly. 

Ianto shook his head as if he was certain Jack was lying to him. 

“We are such different people, even more so now,” Ianto turned around, and Jack’s insides clenched at the clear undercurrent of sadness he could hear, which rang even louder than his lover’s reservations. 

“You saved me Jack, you gave me meaning again, but you are still so much of a mystery to…” 

Ianto never got to finish his sentence before Jack enveloped him in a firm embrace that knocked the air from his lungs. For a moment Ianto wanted to protest, but having the captain so close, smelling like rain and his own shampoo made the words die on his lips. 

“Stay, don’t run,” Jack murmured gently into Ianto’s hair. “I’m not…” 

For a few minutes Ianto just stood there and let Jack comfort him, his fists clenching and unclenching in the fabric of his shirt. He so desperately wanted to believe him, but Ianto knew he wouldn’t be able to unless he told him the whole truth. 

“My dreams about you Jack, not all were good,” Ianto confessed quietly. Jack closed his eyes as his grip tightened ever so slightly. 

“Go on.” 

“I kept having this dream of us, in a room, facing...something without a face. We were together, side by side, but we never made it out of the room. I told you I loved you, but I never got to hear it back. You kissed me, but I never felt it.” 

Ianto drew a shuddery breath. 

“It felt so real.” 

And Jack didn’t doubt that the younger man meant it. Because even as he told the story, Jack felt a twinge deep in the recesses of his memory that was almost residual. 

“Ianto…” 

The younger man felt Jack’s large hand on the back of his head, guiding him to the crook of his shoulder. 

“It’s okay to have doubts, you wouldn’t be you if you didn’t,” Jack said, brushing his lips against Ianto’s temple. Ianto could feel Jack’s warmth seep through his clothing beneath his reassuring hands. 

“And no, I don’t know where we are going. But I do know this…” 

Ianto held his breath. 

“No matter how cruel this world is, no matter who you thought we were, that was me, and this is me.” 

Jack pulled back and cupped Ianto’s face in his hands, a rare moment of vulnerability present in the clear blue facets of his eyes. 

“Layering memories with you,” he finished softly. 

It was the surety in Jack’s tone that broke him, punching through all the arguments he had lined up in his head. And suddenly all Ianto could feel was his warmth. 

“I’m sorry…” 

Jack shook his head.

“Don’t be, this is you, this is who you are, and I missed that. I missed you.” 

Jack emphasised his words with a kiss so deep that it made every nerve flare like kindling. So much so that when Jack pulled back, they were both flushed. 

Ianto felt a long forgotten lust spark deep in his belly for the man standing before him. After all they had been through, it was easy to forget the simple fact that Jack Harkness was just fucking gorgeous. 

The younger man felt a hum in his blood when he could feel the outline of Jack’s cock press against his thigh. It hardened even more when Jack went back for another kiss, his tongue brushing against Ianto’s, sweet and cool against the roof of his mouth. 

“Let me show you how much I missed you,” Jack breathed against Ianto’s cheek. 

All Ianto could do was nod and pull the other man in the direction of his bedroom. 

Along the way they lost their tops, and Jack ran a loving hand through that dark hair on Ianto’s chest, following its path south so that he could give his dick a hard squeeze. 

“Wait,” Ianto gasped, pushing Jack onto the bed so he could draw his blackout curtains closed. By the time he flicked on the side table, Jack had taken his shirt off completely and had pulled the bedcover from its tucked corners. 

Reclining against Ianto’s pillows, Jack knew he had the cockiest smile on his face as he beckoned his lover closer. Part of the captain knew that this part of their reconciliation should go slow, reassurance present at every step, knowing that it would be too easy for guilt to taint their lust. 

But the other, louder part of him just wanted to be as close to Ianto as he possibly could. He wanted to finger him, reach inside him, suck his dick until he could taste come at the back of his throat. 

Luckily Ianto could telegraph all of Jack’s intentions and knew that if they didn’t step back, both were at risk of bringing it to the edge too soon.

And Ianto didn’t want that. Even though his own resolve was hanging by the thinnest of threads. 

“Jack,” Ianto murmured as he pressed hot kisses to any patch of skin available to him, leaving behind either a graze of teeth or a flick of the tongue.

“What do you want?” 

Sanity returned in a rush to the captain as Ianto brought him back. Breaking apart, Jack pretended to ponder the question as he repeatedly ran his thumbs over Ianto’s nipples, until he shivered in sensitivity and let out a low moan. 

That sound made Jack’s trousers too tight.

“What do you want Ianto?” Jack responded, as he used his free hand to slip below the waist of Ianto’s jeans so that his fingertips were brushing against the root of his prick. 

Ianto closed his eyes as Jack’s fingernails caught a little on his pubic hair. 

“I want you to fuck me Jack,” Ianto said as he palmed Jack’s cock, his movements a little too eager, a little too rough for the evenness of his tone. 

“I’ve not had someone fuck me in a long time Jack. I’ve missed feeling your dick pounding me.”

Suddenly Ianto’s hand was inside Jack’s trousers and he was jerking him off, running his thumb in circles over the sensitive slit, making it sticky. Jack bit back a growl as thrust into Ianto’s fist. 

Pleased with the reaction he got, Ianto leaned closer so he could whisper into Jack’s ear.

“Fill me up, stretch me out around that big cock of yours,” Ianto breathed, Jack nodded as he cupped Ianto’s chin so he give him a possessive kiss that was soaked in heat and desire. 

Jack frowned though as Ianto pulled back, but felt his blood heat at the look in his eyes. 

“But, before that…”

Putting his weight on his arms, Ianto moved so that he was above Jack’s groin, fumbling with his zip until he could pull his trousers down all the way and toss it to the side. 

“I want to remember how you taste,” Ianto said, his voice low and mellow as he kept stroking Jack. 

“Go ahead,” Jack said huskily, running a loving hair through the younger man’s hair and Ianto could feel his cock leaking inside his jeans. 

He opened his mouth so he could take in the tip, softly sucking on the head as he rubbed his knuckles up and down the shaft. Jack had to grip the sheets to stop from bucking up as Ianto took him slowly, agonisingly, inch by inch. 

Ianto knew there was no way he could take all of Jack, it wasn’t the easiest of tasks even when they had been regularly fucking. So instead, he palmed Jack’s balls, and rubbed his knuckles at the sensitive spot behind.

Jack threw his head back when Ianto suddenly increased the pressure against his perineum, stimulating him from the outside. And he damn near bucked when he felt Ianto rub his cum-wet thumb against his asshole. 

A realisation hit Jack at that moment like a kick in the chest.

Jack could feel the difference in Ianto’s touch, the boyish uncertainty he once knew was gone, replaced by someone who knew what he was doing. There was a confidence in how he deftly handled Jack’s cock, manipulating him, bending him. 

The American was torn between feeling jealous and wanting to thank Ianto’s previous lovers, close as he was to spilling down his younger lover’s throat. 

“Lube, condoms,” Jack brusquely ordered, his voice hard as he tried to claw back control. Ianto shifted his weight so he could rummage through the drawers of his sidetable for the KY and foil packets. 

It allowed Jack a moment's respite and gave him time to admire the pale stretch of Ianto’s body, from the small dip of his back to the curve of his ass. It was too easy to let his mouth roam over all that was offered to him, to almost break the skin when emotions got a bit too intense.

“Come on Jack,” Ianto said near breathless but no less urgent as he pressed the lube into his lover’s hand. 

Jack slicked up his fingers as Ianto put a pillow under his hips, shifting his knees further apart so he was open, so he was ready. 

Ianto let out a belly-deep groan as he felt Jack lick a long trail along the cleft of his ass, before slipping one thick finger inside, pushing against the initial resistance until it was as deep as it would go. 

Dripping more lube over his fingers, Jack added a second finger so he could scissor and loosen Ianto up, taking dark pleasure in how the younger man quivered and clenched around him. 

“You always did love this part Ianto, just as much as the fucking,” Jack said as he leaned forward, sounding so sexy that Ianto inadvertantly humped the pillow, staining the bedsheet beneath. 

“Jack, please...,” Ianto said, unable to stop desire from thinning his words. 

Truth be told, Jack was near his limit too despite his cool exterior. Ripping the condom packet with his teeth, Jack quickly rolled it down his erection, followed by even more lube. 

“Ready?” Jack asked as he rubbed the head of his cock against Ianto’s opening. 

Ianto groaned. 

“Yes, Jack...plea..”

Ianto’s words melted into a moan as Jack pushed inside him, slow but steady until he had bottomed out. He relished in the slight burn, the pressure as he felt Jack throb inside him. 

“Fuck, you feel amazing Ianto. So hot, so wet,” Jack said, his words coming out in soft heaves as he moved his hips in a circle, grinding his cock deep inside his lover.

“Fuck me, fuck me,” Ianto said almost mindlessly, lifting his knees as he inadvertantly clenched around that last inch of Jack’s cock. 

“Fuck yes Ianto, I’m going to fuck you hard,” Jack growled as he widened his stance so he could really slam into Ianto. Using his weight, Jack pushed Ianto’s hips down so that his cock was directly rubbing into the mattress, leaning forward to lace their fingers together for some balance.

Ianto couldn’t stop the deep cries leaving his throat every time Jack pounded him, thick and hard, and filling him up completely. 

Jack didn’t let up his almost brutal pace, his pelvis slapping hard against Ianto’s ass until he felt his lover shake as he came in thick spurts against the comforter, his spunk thick and white against the dark material. 

Ianto felt almost boneless as all the tension bled from his body, only clenching when Jack kept thrusting at an erratic pace, using him, using his hole to get off, which he did with a shout as he filled the barrier between them. 

For a few minutes, all Ianto could hear was the sound of their mutual ragged breathing, wet and raspy in the thick darkness. He winced a little as Jack pulled out, leaving him feeling more than a little empty. 

But he breathed easier when Jack moved him so that they were facing each other. Ianto took in the flush colouring the captain’s skin and the softness in his eyes, and felt all he had ever felt for the other man rest in his chest.

“Hey,” Jack finally said quietly, tenderly brushing Ianto’s hair back, rubbing comforting circles on his temples. 

“Hey,” Ianto replied, as he followed his answer with a soft press of the lips.

That was the last thing Ianto remembered before he fell asleep. But unlike so many nights before, this time it was dreamless, sleep cocooning him in its velvet embrace. 

***

Jack woke up with a jerk, unaccustomed as he was sleeping with someone else in his bed. 

But his heart calmed when the first thing he saw was Ianto’s back, solid and comforting. Slowly moving closer so that he wouldn’t wake him, Jack nuzzled the nape of his neck and breathed in the smell of sleep and clean sweat, which triggered a spark of lazy arousal in him. 

“Jack?” Ianto said groggily. 

“Shh… sorry to wake you,” Jack murmured against warm skin, gently brushing his fingers down the slope of his lover’s arm. 

“What time is it?” 

“Early… late… doesn’t really matter.” 

In actual fact it was about 9 pm, and they hadn’t eaten for hours but Jack was just feeling too relaxed, too fucked out and satisfied to really care. 

But Jack was also acutely aware that the weariness they both felt in their bones was more than physical. Ever since they had met, both men had been constantly looking over their shoulders, their commitments and guilt stretching long behind them like shadows. 

Even the last time they had sex before this had been so leaden with emotion that dug deep and left scars. The selfish part of Jack knew that it shouldn’t be this hard, his mind casting back to Rafael who made him feel so light.

It was hard to cast off that weight, even now when both of them were single.

At this moment though, their slate was clean. 

And that thought both comforted and terrified the living shit out of Jack in equal measure. 

So the captain did the only thing he could to ground himself. 

He moved closer to Ianto. 

Jack sucked on his two fingers before gingerly slipping them inside Ianto, his opening still plush and soft from earlier. He slowly thrust his fingers in and out, loving the feel of smooth heat and the wetness that trickled down his wrist. 

Ianto breathed out. 

“That’s nice,” he said, his voice still heavy with sleep but Jack could see that his cock was starting to thicken. But still he didn’t speed up his motions, languorously finger-fucking him so that he culd feel all of him. 

Eventually he nipped the shell of Ianto’s ear and said, “My turn to take care of you.” 

Ianto nodded his assent as he let Jack maneuver him so that he was on his back, shuffling his legs apart so that his lover could sit between them. Jack grinned as he looked down at the familiar sight of Ianto’s tattoo of the Welsh dragon, stark and red against his pale skin. 

But Jack paused when he saw that Ianto had added something to his existing ink, a cluster of silver stars around the claw. 

“You got more tattoos?” Jack asked as he sucked at the painted skin and used his tongue to trace the outline like he used too. 

Ianto nodded again as he stretched himself out. 

“To remind myself of important people in my life,” Ianto said, his admission unapologetic and unfiltered as he placed his foot on Jack’s shoulder. 

It was only this close that Jack was able to see what the younger man was silently trying to show him. A small plane, tattooed above the turn of his ankle. 

Lust flared back up in Jack, darker than the soft embers of arousal he had been feeling earlier. 

“Relax Ianto,” Jack said, spreading his lover’s lets apart as far as they would go as he wiped off all the lube he could with the bedsheet. 

“I am going to eat you out.” 

Ianto’s back arched as he felt Jack’s tongue lapping at his asshole in sure, even strokes, quivering when he made the tip rigid and moved deeper. 

He wasn’t sure how long Jack went at it, alternating the pressure so that Ianto’s pleasure came in uneven spikes, even as he felt saliva drip down the curve of his ass. 

“Jack… please…” 

Ianto’s hips canted as Jack sucked hard at his opening and felt a spurt of pre-come trickle down his now hard cock. 

“Stop, stop…” 

Jack lifted his head so he could meet Ianto’s gaze, a wide grin on his face that didn’t quite take away the sharp urgency in his eyes. 

“I wanna ride you.” 

“Oh yeah,” Jack said, his voice harsh as he quickly tossed Ianto the condoms and the KY. 

Despite his nonchalant expression, his cock was hard as steel and throbbing, so much so that Jack had to give himself a quick squeeze around the base to pull himself back. 

Ianto wasted no time unrolling a rubber down Jack’s prick and covering it with lube. Swinging his legs over so that he was straddling the captain, Ianto guided Jack’s penis to his entrance before shifting his weight back so that his cock could slide all the way home. 

The sudden heat engulfing his dick made Jack moan Ianto’s name. 

“Fuck!” Ianto cursed as he raised himself up so he could slam back, so he could feel more of that stretch, Jack’s girth opening him up. He could always feel him more in this position, every ridge stroking him from the inside. 

“That is it Ianto, move baby,” Jack encouraged as he grabbed Ianto’s cock to start jerking him off. 

“Fuck yourself on my cock. Did you miss it?” 

“Yes, I missed your cock Jack, fucking me. Nobody has a cock like yours,” Ianto said, not caring what it was he was saying as his orgasm crowded him. He could feel his thighs burn as he pushed himself up, only to slam back down. 

Just when he got his rhythm, Jack unexpectedly bucked his hips hard, driving his prick in as deep as it would go before coming hard and hot. That was all it took to trigger Ianto’s climax, messily spilling all over his lover’s stomach and chest as he bit the back of his hand to muffle his moans. 

After that, all Jack could remember was fragments. Ianto lapping up his come. Reaching for tissues to wipe him down. Quicksilver kisses that tasted of musk. 

Then there was nothing. 

It was the best sleep Jack had in years. 

*** 

This time when Ianto woke up, it was thanks to his growling stomach, painfully reminding him that sex could not always be a substitute for food. 

“Man, I heard that from over here!” 

Ianto looked up to where Jack was sitting at his desk in the corner, bare-chested and wearing only his slacks, slumped in the chair as he casually scrolled through his iPad. 

“And whose fault is that?” Ianto said in mock accusation as he switched on lamp by his bedside. Tapping his phone screen, he blinked when he saw it was 3:30 am.

But there was no denying how rested he was feeling, despite a slight soreness. Yet, that wasn’t what was taking up space in Ianto’s thoughts as he looked at his lover. 

“Can’t sleep again?” Ianto finally asked, his speech patterns careful as he pulled his blanket tighter around him. 

Jack shrugged carelessly. 

“More like, I was starving too and decided to see what was on UberEats,” Jack grinned before turning his attention back to his iPad. But that didn’t stop him from extending a beckoning arm to get Ianto to come closer, which he did. 

“You okay with something greasy and completely unhealthy for this time of night?” Jack said, rubbing his cheek against Ianto’s warm belly. 

“Sounds perfect,” Ianto replied, running his fingers through Jack’s chestnut hair, hoping that it would tell the captain a fraction of what he was feeling at the moment. 

That he loved him, damaged glory and all. 

Before his emotions could get the better of him, Ianto disentangled himself from Jack’s grip, so that he could walk to the window and look down into the street, the sight of Cardiff’s Central Square comforting in its familiarity.

Ianto knew that he would never be able to fully shake his feelings of dread when it came to the future, but that was what Hurricane Jack was for after all. 

When he turned to tell him that, he saw Jack looking at him silently, his emotions for once plainly written on his face. 

“What are you looking at?” Ianto said lightly. 

“What I am supposed to be looking at,” Jack answered softly. 

Ianto felt his breath catch in his throat. 

The next minute though, Jack hastily cleared his throat as if to mask the fact that he had laid his feelings so bare. 

“I was also looking up flights and things, I was serious about us seeing the world together Ianto.” 

Ianto groaned at Jack’s impetuousness. 

“And I have a job Jack, in fact I’ve got to be at work in,” Ianto glanced at the clock. “Four hours!” 

“Ianto seriously, live a little,” Jack only half teased. “The world ain’t gonna wait you know.” 

Ianto let out an exasperated noise at how pushy his lover could be. 

“Okay, okay fine. I will ask about a sabbatical, but don’t expect it to be next week or something,” Ianto said begrudgingly. That didn’t stop Jack though from internally doing a little victory dance. 

“So where you wanna go?”

“Japan,” Ianto answered without hesitation. “Tokyo of course, but I want to see more of Japan.” 

“Sounds good to me, haven’t been there in ages,” Jack said. 

“You Jack?”

The captain cocked his head to the side as he mentally ran down a list in his head. 

“Let’s go to New York. You are going to fucking hate the subways, especially after Japan, but there is someone there I want you to meet,” Jack said with a half-smile.

Ianto smiled back, the captain’s eagerness was ultimately very contagious. 

“I’m good with that,” Ianto answered as he turned back to the window, his mind wandering as he looked out into the night sky while keeping an eye open for their food. 

Suddenly it didn’t matter to Ianto how all of this would end, because for now, they were making plans. 

No, not plans. 

Memories

**~The End~**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Firstly, thank you, thank you again for everyone who didn't just read this but also loved Me and Mr Jones. Torchwood will always be special for me but after Children of Earth it was hard to be around, because it was so special. 
> 
> So I am glad that I got to write this. I probably won't write anymore with these two, but they do show up in other stories from this series, but they won't be the main couple. But it has been great to revisit them, and man I wish someone would bring them back. 
> 
> Also, this is in case anybody is curious, this is what Sakito looks like (https://imgur.com/OyZIkPn) and this is what Rafael Barba looks like (https://imgur.com/Ekh7hK3)
> 
> Songs used: 
> 
> Part I : 枯詩 ~ The Gazette (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YSPFwVgXXr8)
> 
> Part II: Ain't afraid to die ~ Dir en grey (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0YNarq8dqjU)
> 
> Part III: Nothing can change his love ~ Sam Cooke (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=d3TkNgdUH8w)


End file.
